


Shadows

by falsteloj



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-19 07:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/pseuds/falsteloj
Summary: Jim tells Oswald to name his price.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afterism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/gifts).



It was a low thing to do, Jim knew that, but he needed information, and Gotham wasn’t the city for self-righteousness.

He had learned that the hard way.

So when Oswald followed his movements too openly, with too much interest, Jim decided simply to make the most of it. Took advantage of what had always been obvious, pressed too close and let his gaze linger, and Oswald couldn’t keep the flush from his pallid cheeks, even as his tone remained cold and businesslike.

“I might know something but, then again, I might not. I really can’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“Can’t you?” Jim pressed, and if his breath was hot and damp against Oswald’s ear, if his hand was touching the other man’s arm, that was entirely incidental. It didn’t mean anything.

The heated swipe of his tongue was more difficult to explain away, and Oswald’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, the flush creeping down towards his starched wing collar, breath growing unsteady as he fought for composure.

Jim watched in fascination.

This man had Gotham at his beck and call. Had the adoration of the voters and the underworld at his feet, yet all it took was his mouth, his presence, and Oswald was reacting like a blushing virgin.

Perhaps he was.

The thought did things to him. Reacted with the ever present alcohol in his system so that he couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t remember why getting tangled up with Oswald was such a very bad idea, and he inhaled deeply, the cool scent of cologne making his head spin.

He had to have more, had to find out if Oswald tasted as good as he smelled, and before he could think better of it he was licking a hot stripe up the pale column of Oswald’s neck, Gotham’s self-proclaimed king gasping in shock at the sensation.

“James,” he managed and it might have started out as a protest but ended in a low groan, Jim bringing his hand up to cup the other side of Oswald’s neck to hold him in place, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse. Brushed his lips over sensitive skin, again and again, Oswald clutching frantically at the fabric of his suit jacket.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” Jim murmured and he felt drunk on it, the power he was wielding over the other man. It made him think of the early days of their association, when Oswald’s face had lit up at the mere sight of him.

When he had come to the precinct and spoke of friendship rather than back scratching and business arrangements.

That was gone now, long over, and Oswald’s voice wasn’t quite steady when he countered,

“If I were to talk, how would you make it worth my while?”

Things had gone far enough. Too far already, and the man Jim had once been was telling him to stop before he fell so deep he couldn’t get back up again. The man he was on the other hand, the man Gotham had created, only splayed a hand over the crisp white of Oswald’s dress shirt.

Slid his hand downwards until his fingertips were just skirting where Oswald most needed them.

“Why don’t you name your price?”

Oswald opened his mouth once, twice, no sound escaping, and Jim moved his hand that little bit lower. Increased the pressure against the hardness they encountered, just slightly, and suddenly the words were tumbling from Oswald’s lips. Names, dates, known associates.

It was a dumb move, a rookie mistake, because now he had what he wanted he could simply turn around and walk out of there.

Then again, perhaps Oswald was cleverer than Jim gave him credit for. Knew full well that Jim wasn’t going anywhere.

“I want you, James,” he said once he was done. “I want anything you’re willing to give me.”

Jim lost himself in his gaze, a sea of cold blue, and he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t touched himself imagining this scenario, nor pretend he didn’t know exactly how he most wanted it to play out.

He kissed Oswald, too rough and too eager, one hand anchoring in his carefully styled hair until Oswald was whimpering into his mouth. Was clutching at him like he didn’t know what came next, like Jim had all the control of the situation.

“I want to suck you,” Jim said when he pulled away from his lips, his own dick throbbing at nothing more than the idea.

Oswald looked surprised, made a noise that sparked along Jim’s every nerve ending, and Jim didn’t wait for permission. Dropped to his knees right there in front of Oswald’s chair and fumbled with the fastening of his fly. Buried his nose in the fabric of his underwear before pulling his cock free and mouthing along the length of it.

Circled his tongue around the head and it was nothing like he had thought it would be. The hard heat was the same, the throbbing of his own dick in the confines of his trousers. But Oswald’s fingers were petting instead of twisting, tender rather than cruel, and when their eyes met Jim couldn’t look away from the emotion he found there.

The trust and the hope, and the desperate arousal.

“Jim,” Oswald managed finally, breathy and broken, and Jim couldn’t wait any longer. Sank down deep and gave himself over to it. Pushed a hand into his own pants and swallowed through his gag reflex, the flow of precome on his tongue getting him frantic. It was so good, so hot, and when Oswald’s hips stuttered up, helpless, Jim moaned around him.

Followed the movement, encouraged it, and Oswald caught on to what he wanted. Panted and writhed, and came with a sharp cry, fingers finally tightening in his hair as he spilled down Jim’s throat.

Jim swallowed it all, the movements of his hand feverish, and he lay his cheek against Oswald’s thigh as he came, struggling for breath as his heart raced wildly.

“It’s all right,” Oswald crooned, as though they truly were lovers. “I’m here for you, Jim.”

He closed his eyes and gave into the comforting touch, just for a moment. This had always been inevitable, right from the beginning, and they both knew it.

Oswald was darkness, the creeping tendrils of night, and Jim couldn’t stay out of the shadows.

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, feel free to chat / hit me with prompts over on Tumblr [@serenwib](http://serenwib.tumblr.com/) or Twitter [@falsteloj](https://twitter.com/falsteloj). :)


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